


INDECENT

by JanewayorNoWay



Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-18
Updated: 2019-03-21
Packaged: 2019-11-23 22:32:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18157892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JanewayorNoWay/pseuds/JanewayorNoWay
Summary: Shortly after returning to the Alpha Quadrant, Kathryn Janeway and Seven of NIne had a falling out. Five years later, trying to have some semblance of a life, Janeway waits in a church for her wedding to begin.





	1. INDECENT

**Author's Note:**

> I have no idea if this is any good. It's a little sadder and darker than normal but I think it ends on a good note.

INDECENT

I was not in love with him, but I was lonely and he was kind, if a bit dull. I could live with that. What I couldn’t live with, or hadn’t been able to so far, was being without her. I had been foolish to think that my command mask was a true barrier to pain. I thought the low-level, dull ache of denying myself the privilege of being with her would remain the same. But, when she left the ship to get on the shuttle with her fiancé, it blew a hole so wide in my world it took my breath away.

I did everything right. I looked happy at the news of their engagement. I attended the wedding. I went to the baby shower, plastering a suitably neutral but, pleasant expression on my face. What else was I to do? Tell her how I felt? How I ached for her? Beg her to leave her husband? Yes, I loved her, but I never told her. I was about to, when the Admiral showed up and threw a wrench in everything.

Five years after our return to the Alpha Quadrant, I made a decision to try to shape a life for myself. Seven had long ago ended our contact. She seemed very angry with me, for what, I have no idea. Maybe I was a reminder of the time when she was more Borg than Human, and she didn’t need her “mentor” to guide her anymore. It happens. You can’t be the know-it-all forever. At some point, your charges come into their own, and your “knowledge” of them is no longer who they are or wish to be and you’re just stunting their growth.

Our last meeting, or confrontation, (there had been a number of them since our return) she had been very clear. “I can no longer engage in this friendship.” _She’s breaking up with me_ , I thought, bleakly. I was getting dumped by the woman I had risked everything for.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“Since I have been in the Alpha Quadrant, I have come to understand more about humanity. I have learned that there is a basic assumption of truthfulness between friends. You are not truthful.” She shifted her six-month-old to her other shoulder and gently patted his back.

“But I am, Seven. I’ve never lied to you.”

“You are not happy for Chakotay and I…”

“I am, Seven!”

“Do not lie, Kathryn. I am Borg. I see every gesture, wince, stiffening, you exhibit when in our proximity.”

“I don’t wince.”

“When I told you I was pregnant.”

There was a long uncomfortable pause while I tried to compose myself.

“Ah. Well, yes, but, I was just concerned with how fast you were moving things along with Chakotay. You barely knew who you were or what your life here could be, and to saddle it so soon with a child seemed…”

“Seemed what?”

“Foolish.”

Tears welled in the ex-Drone’s right eye. “Foolish? Is that what you think of me, Captain? I have only ever wanted to please the most important person in my life but, each time I see you, I see the disappointment in your eyes. I rebuke your assessment of my life. I am proud of the way I have navigated this world. I assumed you would be as well, but I will no longer suffer myself with your judgments.”

“They aren’t judgments, Seven, I am only doing what I’ve always done, guiding you.” 

“I do not need your guidance, Kathryn. I need your friendship. But it is held back and I wish to know why.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”.

“On Voyager, for six weeks prior to Admiral Janeway arriving, we were becoming… closer. You changed in your demeanor toward me. It felt… special.”

It was true. Just before my older self appeared, Seven and I had been through a series of difficult events. Most notably, her cortical node failed. The shock of knowing I could lose her made me reassess my self-imposed celibacy. I began the process of slowly opening myself up to a relationship with her. I was more affectionate with her, I invited her to my quarters more frequently, and I invited her to share my shore leave. We grew incredibly close during that week, just the two of us, away from the ship. I was on cloud nine when we transported back, planning a romantic dinner where I would sit her down and reveal my feelings for her. Then, the Admiral came on board and I learned that Seven and Chakotay had been dating. The entire time I’d been wooing her. I felt stupid. Here I was, moving along in my fantasy, and Seven was having sex with Chakotay. I was utterly devastated. What a fool I’d been.

“We were closer, Seven. But, you were dating Chakotay and your attentions turned to him. That’s natural. It happens…” 

“I do not believe it is I who rejected you after escalating the progress of our friendship.” 

I sat there at our table and fought my fear and fury. Friendship, friendship, friendship, was she really that dense? Did she have no clue what all those moon-eyed looks we exchanged were about?

She was right of course. About everything. I was judgmental, bitter, resentful. I could barely look at her with that baby and not feel betrayed. “I am sorry, but this is what I can give.”

Seven nodded, tears streaming down her face. I wanted to grab her then, pull her face to mine and kiss those tears away. But I couldn’t. She was happy and I was ruining it. She started gathering her things together, “If ever you are willing to be truthful with me, then this friendship can be repaired, but I am done, Kathryn Janeway.” She stood up and left. 

My world fell apart. I went through my days in a fog, a soul crushing ache in my heart. I cried many days and nights. My work suffered. Luckily, everyone assumed it was PTSD from my time on Voyager. I was ordered to take a sabbatical, so I went home to stay with my mother and Phoebe.

I lived in an endless loop of sleeping and eating. I hardly spoke at all. I could tell they were worried about me by the sidelong glances at the dinner table. But, I couldn’t talk about it, because if I did, I would never stop howling in pain. While everyone else was giving me time to “heal” from whatever trauma I had suffered in the Delta Quadrant I was desperately trying to kill the pain by shoving it under layers of anger at myself. For being a foolish old woman, in love with her young protégé. I castigated myself mercilessly for my delusion that Seven would ever have returned my feelings. And when that didn’t work, I drank. 

I tracked her movements for a while but, when she began to win awards and accolades for her work at the Theoretical Propulsion Group, I had to stop. It was easier to imagine her miserable and longing for me, than to see clear evidence of life-building.

><><><><><><><  

I slept around for a year. I just wanted to feel alive in that brief moment of ecstasy. I tried to be discrete. I know there were rumors swirling around about the sex-starved Captain who was making up for 7 years of celibacy, but they were greatly exaggerated. I’m sure I broke a couple hearts but, I was always clear about the nature of our encounters and I tried to be kind to those who inadvertently developed feelings for me. I knew how that felt.

Somewhere during that year long fog of sex, I met Paul. He was a senior scientist at the Theoretical Propulsion Group. I liked his mind. I needed someone smarter than me to prickle my brain, charge it up.

I’d been consulting with TPG about the many Borg enhancements to Voyager which Starfleet hoped to reverse engineer and install as standard equipment on future Starfleet ships. It had started out as a professional relationship. 

The hardest part had been seeing Seven’s name on a lab door there when I visited him in the late afternoons. She apparently worked half days now, wanting to be home with her husband and child.

He was handsome. Well built. We became exclusive. 

Now, I sat in a church, full of family and friends, waiting nervously to head down the aisle.

My sister came to me, “What are you doing, Katie?” She asked. 

I plastered my fake smile on, “I’m getting married, Phoebe.” 

“Goddammit, Kate. Don’t do this. You don’t love him.”

“I love him enough.” 

“Is that how you loved Seven of Nine?” 

I spun to wilt her with a glare but, she was my sister. She was immune to my glares.

“What would you have me do? Ruin her marriage? Destroy her happiness?” 

“She loved you. We exchanged messages just as frequently as you and I did when you were on board Voyager. And you loved her. Both of you only talked about each other.”

“She made her choice.”

“She made that choice because you never told her how you felt about her.” 

“When should I have told her?  While we were lost in the Delta Quadrant and I had to be the Captain 24/7? When we were back in the Alpha Quadrant and she was engaged to my First Officer?” I shook my head, “I have to find some way to not be so alone anymore, Phoebe.”

She pulled me into her. She was a great comforter. As good sisters are. I often felt relief when she would wordlessly embrace me. There was one person who knew me, understood my fucked-up ways and constantly forgave me.

I sat her down on the low bench under the window in the rector’s office. “Honey, Phoebe, I’m not delusional. I know, without Seven, my life will never truly be what I hoped it would but, I can have some small measure of a life, a little bit less loneliness. You can’t imagine, Phoebe, how hopeless I feel every day. Paul is a good man, a decent lover, if somewhat unimaginative, but he challenges my mind, he makes me laugh. He gives me tiny moments where the hopelessness dims. That’s all I think I’m going to get since the person I love is married to my former first officer and seems quite content.”

Phoebe cried for me. She understood the hopelessness. She didn’t have any answers either. No magical movie moment that could rescue my broken heart and put it back together again.

She left me alone with my sad compromises. There was a light knock on the door, “Sweetheart? It’s Paul.”

I smiled, even though he couldn’t see me, “No looking at the bride!” I teased, “Let’s not curse the marriage.”

He laughed. “I just want you to know that I feel like the luckiest man alive, babe. And in 20 short minutes, you’ll be my wife and nothing bad will ever happen to you again if I can help it.”

“Thank you, Paul.” I hadn’t taken to calling him by any endearments. It felt too false. Like, if I said, “Yes, sweetheart,” he would immediately know the lie of it. So, he was Paul.

I sat on the bench and tried to empty my mind. If I thought too much _she_ always swam into view and stung my heart. There was a light rap on the door. I opened it to find Admiral Paris waiting to take me down the aisle.

We wound our way down the corridors of the old church, dumping out by the oak double doors to the chapel. Two young cadets stood at attention, their sabers flat against their faces. I nodded and they opened the doors. I was greeted by a couple hundred faces: B’ELanna and Tom, Tuvok and T’Pel, Lt Wildman and my Captain’s assistant, Naomi. Familiar faces. They all looked so bleak. Not what I expected to see at my wedding.

I started down the aisle, reaching out to touch my mother’s arm as I went past her and stood next to my husband to be. The minister began in that low drone that they always seemed to think was necessary. As he lulled me into a stupor, I prayed for a quick ceremony and then a new life.

After the ceremony we held a small reception in the church hall across the road. I mingled as best I could, considering the somber mood everyone was in. I knew they didn’t understand why I was doing what I was doing. Like Phoebe, I’m sure they’d connected the dots about Seven and I and were well aware that I was settling. No one had the nerve to voice such opinions to me. Except B’Elanna, “I always assumed you and Seven would find your way back to each other.”

“Find our way back? To what, B’Elanna?” I snapped.  

“Are you serious? You want to play this game?”

“None of this is a game to me, Lieutenant.”

“What happened to you? You’re so filled with resentment at Seven, I know you two had a falling out…”

“She ended our friendship. In very clear and blunt terms.”

“I know, but that was five years ago. I guess I just assumed, when she and Chakotay got a divorce, that she’d reach out to you and try to repair the relationship.”

I felt the wind knocked out of me. Seven and Chakotay were divorced? I grabbed B’Elanna’s arm and she quickly guided me to a seat in a quiet corner of the hall. “You didn’t know?” 

I shook my head. “When?” I croaked.

“A few months ago. I told her to contact you, that maybe she’d get an honest answer from you now that Chakotay wasn’t hanging around.”

“An honest answer?” 

“That you love her. You’re in love with her. You’ll never stop loving her.” 

“That’s the lie she was upset with me for about five years ago?”

"Well, yeah.”

“How could I possibly tell a woman holding her newborn baby that I was in love with her? She can’t honestly have expected that from me. And what about her? Why couldn’t she tell me how she felt?”

“She was terrified! For Khaless sake. She didn’t understand what her feelings meant. She didn’t know what you wanted from her. You pushed and pulled her every which way. She was completely smitten and you never even had the guts to tell her it was reciprocated. She latched on to Chakotay because his big dumb grunts were clear and concise, ‘Me want. You pretty. I take care you.’”

I felt cornered, “We are at my wedding reception, B’Elanna. I just got married.” 

“Yeah. Because you’re a coward. Something happened to you when Admiral Janeway came on board. I mean, you changed. I don’t even recognize the Captain Janeway I knew. What happened? What did she say to make you back off?”

“She informed me that Seven and Chakotay were seeing each other.”

“And?”

“We had been… making our way to each other. Seven and I. I was quietly pursuing her for weeks before we came home. She never told me about Chakotay. I had to hear it from my older self. She was having sex with my first officer while I was stupidly believing that we were about to begin a relationship.”

“She wasn’t having sex with Chakotay.”

“I know Chakotay, B’Elanna. He gets bored when they’re too hard to get.”

“Seven couldn’t have sex with Chakotay because she hadn’t had her cortical inhibitor removed yet. Anything beyond kissing and she passed out. She did have it removed though. When you got back from shore leave. She asked me to be with her during surgery. She did it for you. She was so…” B’Elanna’s voice broke at the memory, “…excited. And scared and hopeful. Then the Admiral showed up and you just slammed the door right in Seven’s face. She came to me, full of self-doubt, had she done something wrong? Why does the Captain not wish to be in my presence any longer?  I wanted to kill you.”

“Why didn’t you tell me any of this before?”

“Because you don’t deserve her. You are one fucking amazing Captain, but you suck at letting people in. You seem to have no ability to communicate your feelings honestly. I mean, come on… Paul? Does he even know how you really feel?”

I looked her in the eye, ”Yes, B'Elanna. He knows. He knows that I can only give what I'm giving."

She sat next to me, clasped me to her. “Khaless, Kathryn, I can’t take seeing you like this.” 

I let myself be comforted. “I missed my chance, B’Elanna. Whatever Seven and I once felt for each other, I burned that bridge with my humiliation at being played for a fool. I was furious at Seven and I did behave abominably. But the damage is done. If it weren’t, she would have contacted me when she got divorced.” We stood and I hugged her, “I’m going to be fine, B’Elanna. Paul is a good and kind man and I do care for him. This isn’t a tragedy. Yes, I'll always have the pain of losing Seven, but I'm married and I'm hoping to have a life again."

Hours later, Paul and I were finally in our shuttle, prepping for takeoff when I saw something out of the corner of my eye. There, sweeping out of the church doors, scanning the horizon was Seven of Nine. What was she doing here? I got my answer when I saw B’Elanna behind her, pointing to our shuttle. _“What have you done, B’Elanna?”_ I thought.

Seven’s head swiveled to us. Spotting me, she raced toward the shuttle. I gasped at her lithe form, in her biosuit, loping effortlessly toward us. _We should go. We should go now_.

I have been told that I am “decent.” That is what I have lived my life by. My decency. To be decent requires that one be selfless. During the seven years we were lost in the Delta Quadrant, I denied myself all manner of things in duty to my sense of decency. I gave up rations if the crew needed them. I worked longer hours so my senior officers could get more rest, I watched others fall in love but denied it for myself and I remained silent about my feelings for Seven when I learned she and Chakotay were dating. That is what you do when you’re a decent human being. What you want comes last. 

I was filled with gut wrenching heartache watching Seven run toward us. Once again, it was too late. Choices had been made. I would do the decent thing. 

I opened my mouth to urge Paul to get us out of there, but instead, my mouth formed the word “Wait.” I moved to the shuttle door. _What are you doing, Kathryn Janeway? Stop this! Stop it now!_  

Paul turned to see what I was staring at.

“Is that Seven?”

I didn’t hear him. I opened the shuttle door and leapt into Seven’s arms.

FIN

 


	2. ONE YEAR LATER

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Treadstone17, much affection, JanewayorNoWay

Look, first of all, I don’t blame my sister for what she did on her wedding day. I do blame her for the dumb shit she did before that day. And for that insane leap from a hovering shuttle. God. It was so like her. Not to ditch a husband but, to be such a hard ass about what was proper until her properness strangled her. I tried to warn her. But she wouldn’t listen. I felt bad for Paul, but I didn’t really know him. Kathryn had purposely avoided mother and I, not wanting any scrutiny given to her house of cards. I made sure he was okay before I went home that night. As far as I was concerned, my part in the whole mess was over. Then, my mother sent me to the hall to clean up. “It’s not right to leave it for the church ladies.” I literally stumbled over him in the doorway. He looked like death warmed over. My heart broke. I think we’d all forgotten that he loved my sister. I felt like such an asshole. I brought him home, cleaned him up, fed him, called my mother. “You have who in your bed?!”

“Paul. Katie’s Paul. And he’s not in my bed, he’s in the guest bed.”

“Oh, honey. That poor man.”

He stayed longer than I expected. I didn’t know when he was going to leave, but I was afraid to ask in case he fell apart again. I’d never seen a man cry or, more accurately, heard one cry. He was too embarrassed to do it in front of anyone but, I heard him. Sometimes, I’d go to him, bearing a cup of hot tea (with milk, the only way it should ever be drunk). I’d sit up for hours, talking about whatever he needed to talk about. I tried as best I could to explain my sister to him, when he asked. I didn’t make excuses for her. I felt she’d made the right choice, but I also thought her timing sucked.  
It had been a week when I came home from marketing to see Paul, on the porch, his suitcase packed.

“You leaving the Heartbreak Hotel?” I asked him.

He laughed, “I heard you can check in but, you can never check out.” This was our way with each other. We gave each other shit, we laughed about dreadfully painful things. Seeing him packed I felt a pang of sorrow. Even with the crying, he’d turned out to be really good company. I would miss him. We stayed in touch. I made my mom come with me a few times to check up on him. I guess I felt he needed us. But, over the weeks, I think I just began to miss him. His friendship had become invaluable to me. He gave the most solid advice, he was an excellent cook, and he loved Sci-Fi. We geeked out a lot. We both had a warped sense of humor. There were times when we were rolling on the floor, wheezing over some stupid, random, awful, joke. I remembered Kathryn’s descriptions of him, “kind but dull.” I guess when you’re in love with someone else, you can’t really see the bonuses in anyone who isn’t that person. Well, I saw the bonuses.  
Somewhere around month two, I realized I wanted to be more than friends. I called it the “Captain Janeway Move.” Falling in love with the most inappropriate person you could find. Unlike, the Captain, I let my intentions be known. He looked ;ike I’d thrown ice water in his face. I shrugged, “I’m just letting you know. However you want to handle it is fine by me. Your friendship is my favorite thing in the world so, I don’t want to do anything to screw that up.” He wanted to wait. He wasn’t ready. He did say, he had feelings for me, but he wasn’t in the head space yet to really consider it. “But, I promise you, Phoebe, when my head gets clear and I’m ready to start dating again, you’ll be the first to know.” God, he was just so nice. Sexy nice. True to his word, about a month after that, he called, “I heard some poor sap who got ditched at the altar is back on the streets again and he was wondering what you’re doing for dinner Friday?”

“Nothing,” I said. Then I called and cancelled my Friday meeting with a gallery owner.

I’ve got to go, but there’s just one other thing I need to clear up about Paul Warren. NOT UNIMAGINITIVE IN BED. I have no idea what was going on with my sister in that department but, he was tireless, inventive, silly, fun, passionate. Poor Kate. She must have been so broken by then. I can’t imagine the level of grief she’d been dealing with. And I know that it colored everything in her world. So, I don’t blame her. How could I? She’s my sister. I know what grief does to her. She’s had plenty of it. So, I’m not judging her. Oh, she’s knocking on the door now.

“Phoebe? You ready?” I open the door and we hug. “Nervous?” She asks.

“Hell no. You?”

“Well, I’ve never walked anyone down the aisle before, so a little.”

“Someone has to give the bride away. And lucky for me, you already gave the groom away.”

She laughed, “Don’t remind me. God what an asshole I was.”

“You did him a favor. He deserved someone who loved him. Who thinks his dumb jokes are funny, who thinks his hairy back is sexy, who can’t keep her hands off him.”

“Jesus, Phoebe, seriously. You go too far sometimes.”

She walked me to the entrance to the church. As the wedding march played, we walked arm in arm down the aisle, me grinning like an idiot at my beautiful man. When we got to the altar, he turned to us, “It’s déjà vu all over again, ladies.”

Yes. Yes it is. Except you’re not going to be able to shake this Janeway.


	3. ONE YEAR LATER - KATHRYN

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The ongoing saga which was supposed to be a short story.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YOU PEOPLE ARE CRAZY. And I had to change the rating to an M. I hope you're all happy.

ONE YEAR LATER -- KATHRYN  
Someone had taken a holovid of my leap. It was plastered across every news outlet, played endlessly, dissected, analyzed. The great, selfless, hero, executing a nuclear detonation of her career. I was selfish, a whore, a sexual predator, preying on an innocent young woman.

Others, of course, praised the romance of it, the forbidden love story of the century. A much older woman, a Starfleet Captain, secretly harboring love for her Astrometrics officer, a former Borg, willing to sacrifice everything in the name of love. They waxed poetically about the private torture I must have gone through, denying my feelings, the years of unspoken mutual love that poor timing consistently thwarted.

My own opinion of myself and my actions were not so romantic. What I did was anathema to who I was, to the life of honor I’d scrupulously built. It did make me lay awake at night. Paul did not deserve what I did to him. I was censured by Starfleet. Demoted to Vice Admiral. I was spat at on occasion, jeered, asked to leave restaurants. I’d like to say I held my head high and never wavered from my conviction that I’d done the right thing but, that would be a lie. I began seeing Counselor Troi, knowing that, if I didn’t work through everything in my life that had led me to this, I would never be able to fix the damage I’d done, nor be able to look myself in the mirror again.

But, within my circle of friends and family, there was joy. In private, with Seven, I flourished. We flourished.

Eventually, through my sessions with Deanna Troi, I understood that the expectations I set for myself were inevitably going to cause me to implode. I was not a stone. I was a flesh and blood woman… who had experienced profound, deeply traumatic losses that I blamed myself for. Justin and Daddy. My indecision in the moments after their crash meant that someone who did not need to die, did. I thought I’d resolved this decades ago but, there it sat, in my subconscious, taunting me for more than two decades. With Deanna’s help, I was able to accept that I was human and, despite my belief otherwise, I would make mistakes and they were forgivable. In fact, I learned I’d been forgiven many times over for my errors in judgment by my crew, my friends, my family.

I learned from my mother that Phoebe had found Paul in the reception hall, passed out, covered in vomit. Hearing this felt like a punch to my gut. If I needed a clear visual of the impact of my actions on a man who’d been nothing but kind to me, this was it. I was so grateful for her then. For all the things about her that had always baffled me. Her ability to not give a fuck what others thought, her penchant for taking in strays, her complete ignorance of what was an appropriate conversation topic. Nothing was taboo. I imagine Paul wasn’t left alone with his thoughts for a moment, because my sister would haul them all out and analyze them.

She was a free spirit, unconstrained by rules. She cared more about being in the moment. She was fun. Something I don’t think anyone would say about me. She could take the wind out of my pompous sails and make me laugh while she was doing it. She helped me cope with the humiliation of the holovid by calling me “The Whore of the Delta Quadrant.”

I was so grateful to her. At least, while she was tending to Paul’s heartache, I knew he was in good hands.

As for Seven and I, we were busy learning about each other. I was learning to be a stepmother to her beautiful son, Matoka. He had his father’s black hair and his mother’s blue eyes, making him striking looking. I adored him and he seemed to accept me. Of course, we had problems, he was five and he came with all the fussiness, stubbornness and tantrum skills of any five-year-old. Seven was an amazing mother. Her patience was a revelation to me. Whereas, on Voyager, she had little time for our human flaws and illogic, with her son, she had infinite patience for these same troubling human qualities. She was a strict disciplinarian, she never raised her voice, instead, pulling him aside, waiting out the tantrum, then meting out the consequences. Usually a time out. When the time out was over, Matoka would come to her, “Mama, hug.” I thought it was extraordinary that he sought comfort from the person who’d given the punishment. It was a testament to the love she was capable of.

Contrary to the salacious news reports, there was no hot and heavy sex scene. It was so much more boring than that. We had hurt each other, lied to each other. We were strangers. We hadn’t spoken in five years; we’d parted on bad terms. We needed to regain the trust we’d lost. I let Seven set the pace for this. I had hurt her deeply. We didn’t make love for weeks.

Somewhere around week six, I came home from a grueling Starfleet hearing about my unbecoming conduct and collapsed in sobs at the wreckage I’d made of my career and my reputation. She sat next to me on the couch, pulled me onto her lap, held me like a child while I wept. She tucked my head under her chin and pulled me close, one arm wrapped around my waist, the other caressing my back. She trailed tender kisses along my temple, down my cheek. When my tears were dried, she took my hand and led me to her bedroom where she undressed me, her hands deftly stroking my buttocks, cupping my breasts. I wasn’t on fire with want, I felt raw, exposed… much too vulnerable in my current state to give over to passion. She understood. She removed her biosuit, lay me down on her bed, then lay next to me. “Turn on your side,” she whispered. She wrapped her arms around me and pulled me into her, my bottom pushing against her soft blonde curls. She proceeded to caress my stomach and breasts, fondling them, stroking my nipples to attention, her warm breath on the nape of my neck. She spoke quietly of her love for me, her admiration for the person I was, reminded me of all the good I’d done, insisted those deeds were still honorable, still good. She reached between my thighs, her fingers caressing the graying hair there, then travelled down to circle my clit. Her hand dropped lower, her fingers teasing at my entrance, exploring the folds, slick with moisture. When she pushed into me, she whispered, “Captain Janeway” and I came so hard the scream made my throat raw.

<><><><><><><>

A couple months after that, I got a call from Phoebe. “Hey, whore,” she said. I laughed, “Reporting for duty.”

“Um, I sort of need to talk to you about something.”

“Okay…”

“Ugh, this is awkward. But you know how I took care of Paul? And even after he went home, I would go see him, check up on him?”

“Yeah…”

“I’ve done something really wonderful or really stupid. It depends on how you look at it.”

“Uh huh…”

“Um, well, I’m dating Paul.”

I felt like I’d just been shoved out an airlock. My mind literally couldn’t make sense of it.

“Katie? You still there?”

“Are you out of your mind?”

“I thought we’d already established that. But what do you think about me dating Paul?”

“Well, I… I mean… I guess I don’t have any right to feel anything, truthfully. It’s just really, really weird, Phoebe.”

“It’s a lot weirder than it looks, to be honest.”

“I’m just worried about you. Are you worried that you’re a rebound?”

I didn’t appreciate the guffaws. First of all, no one really laughs like that. I’m sure she was doing it to make her point. “I get it. I’m an asshole,” I told her, “But you’re still my little sister and I have to watch out for you. Do you… care for him?”

“Okay, don’t tell Paul this but… Kate, I’m nuts about him.”

“Why would I tell Paul? We’re not even speaking.”

“You might run into him on the street.”

“Fine, if I run into Paul on the street, I will not tell him you’re nuts about him. How does he feel about you?”

“I think he really likes me. Like really, really.” She gave that sigh she always gives when she’s about to get mushy about something, “He’s so lovely, Katie. He’s just such a lovely man. He’s kind, he’s honest, he lets me talk about his feelings.”

“Well, I know that’s important to you, to be able to talk about other people’s feelings.”

She laughed, “I’m a curious person. I want the scoop. But, honestly, Kate, we just click. He knows all the lines to Mad Max, he thinks I have nice feet and I think he has a handsome penis.”

I choked on my coffee, “Oh my god! You’ve had sex?!”

“No, Kate, I just asked if I could I see his penis. You know a wonky penis is a deal breaker for me.”

“Jesus, Phoebe. Not funny.”

“Sorry. But, can you forgive me? For falling for your husband that you left at the altar to be with an ex-borg?”

This time I sighed, “Of course, honey. I have no claim on Paul and no claim on your happiness. But, will you do me one favor? Will you please tell him I’m so sorry? That I was broken and I did him a great injustice?”

“You can tell him yourself, we’re going on a double date next week. Seven said you guys were available.”

I wanted to be furious, but the truth is, this was Phoebe’s strange gift: Ignoring social rules. I have no idea why, but her refusal to adhere to the unspoken rules of society often fixed a lot of problems. So, I agreed.

Now, I’m walking to the rectory of the church, decked out in my dress whites, so I can walk my baby sister down the aisle to marry my ex-husband. That first double date, I knew they were already in love. I felt strangely buoyed. Like I’d dodged a bullet of responsibility for ruining a decent man’s life. They were terrific together. Two peas in a pod. I’d never seen my sister so happy. Hell, I’d never seen Paul so happy. For a brief moment I looked around for Q. But, apparently he hadn’t had a hand in this miracle that was unfolding before my eyes.

As we grew closer as couples, I was finally able to ask Paul for his forgiveness. For being blind to who he was, for making him a prop in my efforts to make some semblance of a life. He gave it graciously. “If you hadn’t dumped me, I wouldn’t have her,” he said. That's the best thing he could have told me, because I couldn't agree more. Between us, Phoebe was always the real catch.

MORE TO COME...


	4. FIVE YEARS LATER - SEVEN OF NINE

When I ended my association with Kathryn Janeway, I was emotionally bereft. I had thought that she and I were moving toward a more intimate relationship in the weeks before Admiral Janeway came aboard and sent us to the Alpha Quadrant. I made the decision to have my cortical inhibitor removed and asked B’Elanna Torres to accompany me. She had become a good friend, and I had begun to recognize that I had human needs and understood that it was acceptable practice to ask for support from a friend when those needs became overwhelming. I had been dating Chakotay for approximately 7 weeks. Our relationship had not progressed beyond kissing, due to the inhibitor. Yet, I never felt compelled to have it addressed. I wanted to wait to determine if I would feel anything other than the mild interest I had so far developed in him. Three weeks into our relationship, Captain Janeway’s behavior toward me took a distinct change. I keenly observed the frequency with which she touched me, the dilation of her pupils when we sat close on the couch in her quarters after our dinners together. I realized that she desired me, and this knowledge triggered sensations that I had not felt before. I did not know how to proceed with this, nor did I know if she would ever act upon it. When Captain Janeway invited me to share her shore leave, it was clear to me that she was consciously escalating our friendship to something more intimate. We did not copulate, merely kissed briefly that last night of shore leave. It was the kiss that informed me what I needed to know. I was capable of passion. I did not love Chakotay. I would remove my cortical inhibitor, end my relationship with the commander and pursue the Captain. Before I could execute this plan, Admiral Janeway came on board and revealed that Chakotay and I had been married in the alternate future. This did not sway me from my desire to be in an intimate relationship with the Captain. But, Captain Janeway suddenly reversed course. She became unavailable. Her frequent caresses vanished. I could not persuade her to play Velocity, have a meal together, engage in one of our philosophical talks. Devastated, I became immobile, afraid to be cast out on my own in this strange planet with its human inhabitants. I chose to stay with Chakotay, believing I would grow to love him.

After our return, the Captain, now an Admiral, made efforts to socialize with me again. But, the distance was still there. I was angry. She had led me on. Played with my emotions. After countless efforts on my part to get her to admit her feelings, I attempted one last time. She continued to deny that we had shared a greater intimacy and that she had any feelings in that direction. Heartbroken, I ended our friendship. I poured myself into my work at the Theoretical Propulsion Group, often working days on end without regenerating. This served two functions: It kept me away from Chakotay for long stretches, and it kept my mind occupied on something besides my love for Janeway and my heartbreak at her denial of the same.

Shortly after my first year at TPG, Chakotay and I separated. I did not disclose this to anyone. And neither did Chakotay. I believe he felt we would reconcile. I no longer inquired about the Captain when I was with B’Elanna. It was too painful. That is why I did not know that Admiral Janeway had been dating my colleague, Paul Warren. I only discovered it when I read of her engagement announcement. I felt all was lost then. I had hurt her, and she had moved on without me. I could not blame her. When my divorce was final, I told B’Elanna. She urged me to contact Janeway and let her know of my status. “Maybe she’ll feel like she can be honest with you now that Chakotay’s not in the picture.” I did not feel this was appropriate as she seemed to be making a life for herself and I did not wish to impose on that.

I believed I would never put the Admiral in an uncomfortable situation with her current status. I was wrong. I had been alone at my home in San Francisco, it was Chakotay’s weekend to have Matoka, when B’Elanna’s call came in. She was screaming at me, “Listen, you dumb hunk of metal! Janeway loves you! She marrying some guy because she thinks you hate her. If you love her, Seven, it’s now or never. The ceremony is in an hour. GET HERE NOW!” I informed the lieutenant that I would not fly off and disrupt a wedding ceremony and hung up. Wityhin minutes of hanging up, my thought processes became wild, panicked. I will lose her. I grabbed a shuttle and made my way to the church near her family farm. I saw her leaving with Paul, in his shuttle. Without the cortical inhibitor, my emotions were chaotic. I had only one thought, “I will not lose her again.” As I ran to the shuttle, I thought my endeavors foolish. She had made her choice and when Captain Janeway makes a choice, she does not waver from it. To my surprise, as I closed in on the hovering shuttle, the door opened, and, without hesitation, Kathryn leapt into my arms.

<><><><><><><>

Our initial weeks together were filled with uncertainty as we tried to establish our relationship. I wished desperately to make love to her but I purposely waited. We both needed to be certain that the individuals we had become in the last five years were still the individuals we could be in love with. I believe this was much harder on Kathryn than on myself. She was a tactile person, she needed physical bonding to feel sure of our emotions for one another. This is why, six weeks later, when she came home from her hearings that day and wept in my arms, I took her to my bed and made love to her. Everything I felt for her was stated, as I caressed her belly, her breasts, wound my fingers in her auburn and grey curls, teased at her clitoris, and, finally, thrust into her, crying out my love for this exquisite woman.

I had never experienced anything so intense. My aroused state was beyond anything I had ever felt with Chakotay. She turned in my arms, pushed me back on her bed, straddling my hips. Her breasts bouncing slightly as she ground her pubis against mine. My thought processes were disrupted watching her mouth half open, her head flung back, neck straining as she orgasmed a second time. She collapsed on top of me where I held her tightly, my own arousal making me incoherent, “Please, Kathryn, I need…” She kissed me deeply, our tongues entwining, seeking each other out. She slid down my body, between my thighs, hooking them over her shoulders as her tongue licked at my clitoris. I clenched my hands in her hair, careful not to damage her as her mouth and tongue explored my copious moisture. I was concerned as I had never reached this state of agitated arousal. I was gasping, my chest heaving in need. “Seven, honey,” She said, “Relax. Just let go. I’ll take care of you, just be in the moment and feel.” I did as she asked, centering my mind on the pure sensation of her warm tongue exploring me. She dipped her tongue in my wetness, drew it back up and around my clitoris, then swept down again, teasing at my labia minora, plunging into me rapidly, then making her circuit again. I was in amazement at the amount of moisture I had produced and at the sensation of a deep ache for more of… something. She reached up with one hand and pinched my nipple, squeezed my breast, all the while her tongue increasing it’s speed. Suddenly, I felt a strange sensation, a tightening of the muscles in my vagina, as if in preparation for something. It was blissful. Her tongue now concentrated solely on my clitoris, having somehow determined there was a particular area that induced the most pleasurable response. She focused now only on that, faster, faster, faster. I exploded into an orgasm. Then a second one, her hands firmly gripping my thighs in place as she pushed harder and faster, bringing me to a third powerful orgasm. So that was an orgasm. Another thing I had never experienced with Chakotay.

<><><><><><><>

During our first few months, I was in contact with the Vice Admiral’s sister, Phoebe. I learned of her rescue and continued support of Paul Warren. She told me that she had developed feelings for Kathryn’s husband, and planned on pursuing them. I relayed none of this to Kathryn, knowing her tendency to meddle and dictate terms. When Phoebe proposed a double date I readily agreed, feeling it was time for Kathryn and I to face the man we had harmed and make amends for the damage we had caused to him. The dinner was awkward and tension filled as we warily tested the waters. Then Phoebe announced, “Ugh. This politeness is so boring. Kate, you ditched Paul at your wedding. I know you’re incredibly sorry for that and Paul, I know you’re great in the sack, so can we just call it even?” The laughter broke the tension and the rest of the evening was quite pleasant. Since that time, Paul and Phoebe have become our closest friends.

This is why they are in the delivery room today, clutching my hands, looking concerned as I strain under the contractions. Kathryn looks ill. I have never seen her face this pale. “Kathryn, I am alright. It is childbirth, not assimilation.” I have learned from Phoebe that humor can ease tension, and I see the truth of this as I watch the color come back to Kathryn’s face when she laughs. The doctor moves into position, “The baby is crowning,” he announces, “Push!” I comply, and mine and Kathryn’s baby makes her entrance into the world. The nurses quickly clear her airways, clean her up and place her on my chest. I grin as I see the shock of red hair at her crown. I look at Kathryn and we are laughing through our tears. “It is clear who the other parent of this child is,” I say. She will be another stellar Janeway woman. Phoebe Hansen Janeway.


End file.
